Perihelion
by Clementine Mack
Summary: A continuation of Aphelion, sometimes memories of a person reverberate long after they are gone. A one-shot examining the aftermath of Barty Crouch Jr.'s death.


**Author's Note:** This is a continuation of the oneshot fic entitled _Aphelion._

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 **Perihelion  
** **per·i·he·li·on**

the point in the orbit of a planet, asteroid, or comet at which it is closest to the sun. The opposite of aphelion.

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"So open your eyes and see

The way our horizons meet

And all of the lights will lead

Into the night with me

And I know these scars will bleed

But both of our hearts believe

All of these stars will guide us home."

– Ed Sheeran, All of the Stars

* * *

Professor Aurora Sinistra both lived and taught in the Hogwart's Astronomy tower and save but during her midnight class she remained undisturbed by students and professors alike. It was the way she preferred it to be and therefore felt a twinge of surprise and annoyance when she opened her door to reveal a visitor.

"Do you wish to talk?" The matron of Gryffindor asked after she had been invited into the small home. Peering at Professor Sinistra over her wire-rimmed glasses, there was no mistaking her expression of concern and the nature of her visit. Professor McGonagall had come to the Astronomy professor hours after Barty Crouch Jr.'s execution. Or what could best have been described as an execution. There was nothing that remained of him. Aurora wasn't sure what remained of herself either but she did not say that.

She did not say much of anything to Professor McGonagall or anyone else for that matter. But this wasn't a deviation from her normal nature. The only person who had a key to unlock her thoughts had taken it with him to his demise. So instead of giving a real answer to the elderly witch, Aurora smoothed the wrinkles from her dress and donned a polite but distant smile.

"No, ma'am, there is nothing to be said."

Misery loved company but Aurora did not.

No words would bring him back and most of the wizarding world would regard that as a very good thing. But then again, most of the magical population didn't know what Aurora had known. They didn't know Barty or what beauty had once been in his heart. They couldn't have known that he would write her a letter every day they were apart as children during summer holidays or that she had kept those letters even now. Because when the pain became too much Aurora needed to remember who Barty used to be before the Mark stained his skin; she needed to read his words so that if she closed her eyes she could hear his voice saying them. Memories of their joy sustained her when all else that might have tethered her had come undone.

Years had passed but the memories would still persist, dogging her steps like a shadow on her heels.

Professor Aurora Sinistra was convinced that the cherry blossom orchards were one of Hogwart's best kept secrets. Each Spring she looked forward to the first signs of their immergence. The sunlight would pass through their paper-thin petals, casting complex shadows on the ground. And as beautiful as the landscape was during the day it was even more splendid at night when the astronomy professor typically made her stroll.

But she knew just as magnificent as the flowers were, their appearance was fleeting; once the first petals began to fall, the rest of the tree's blooms would follow. Such was the frailty of life. There and then gone. Sometimes in a raging storm, sometimes ending with a whisper.

"Please stop haunting me Barty," Aurora said with a weary tone. She was alone on her walk and yet not _truly_ alone.

She had aged since the night the Dementor kissed his soul, stealing him forever from the world. But Aurora knew she had lost her lover long before that. Barty Crouch Jr. was gone and yet it seemed every night he would appear either like a phantom in the backdrop of her dreams or a quiet presence as she admired the stars.

"Sorry, love," the familiar voice said. Barty looked like the man from her memories, large brown eyes peering back at her and a cheeky smile tugging at his lips. He was wearing a white button up with matching linen vest and tie. Whereas the years had traced their path on Aurora in the form of faint wrinkles, Barty never looked a day over twenty-three. "If it's any consolation I am not really haunting you. Lack of soul 'n all, you know."

"Then what is this?" Aurora asked as she walked along the orchard path. In the years since the horror of the Triwizard Tournament and Barty's execution, she tried and failed to avoid thinking about him. About what might have befallen his spirit when the dementors devoured it. At her lowest point Aurora found herself in the school's restricted section, scanning scrolls for answers to the terrible question. What she soon realized was that perhaps knowing the pain of the truth was worse then the question itself. Because while the unknown could be scary, it could also leave space for a better narration of what might have happened.

She was thankful that no one else was around to see the spectacle of her talking to herself and the confusing apparition of her quasi-dead lover. He walked beside her calmly and there was no conflict in his brown eyes. He was the Barty she had once known, not the one he would later become.

"A figment of your imagination? Manifestation of guilt perhaps? Too much butterbeer before bedtime?" Barty offered with a wry smile, Aurora looked at him with a furrowed brow.

"I have nothing to feel guilty for," she said flatly.

"I know that, love." Barty replied with a soft voice, his tone betraying a chord of sorrow that hinted he didn't necessarily believe her conviction.

And that's because guilt was but a single catalogue in the library of feelings Aurora kept repressed from the world. Barty was both her shelter from the storm and the wild wind and rain tearing down the walls of her mind. In astronomy the witch had learned years ago that for the millions of galaxies stretched far beyond the mortal field of vision, there were nearly infinite universes too. With this there carried a faint hope that somewhere out there was another reality similar to the one she existed in. Only in this new one there was no Voldemort and Death Eaters that could take Barty from her. There would be no secrets to destroy them.

She imagined in this world they had run far away together, escaping the pains of their past and building something beautiful in its place. There would be a cottage in the woods like they had talked about as teenagers where not even the Owl Post could reach them; fresh roses on the kitchen table and two cups of hot tea to drink on the porch under the stars.

"Do you think we will ever see each other again?" Aurora asked as she looked to the star-stitched sky. She thought about that universe she hoped existed, the one where they were laying in a field together under the same night sky. Barty looked at her and said nothing for a long pause.

"If heaven and hell truly exist, I am afraid not my sweet Rorie," he eventually said quietly. "But didn't you say once that a star may sometime die and be reborn again?"

"Yes, but only a very rare one."  
"Our love wasn't ordinary either," Barty said. "So perhaps that will happen to us, maybe we shall be reborn one day."

"It's all I ever wish for," she confided as a shooting star burned across the sky.


End file.
